Seventy seven moons
by latessitrice
Summary: The Doctor searches for a way to cheer Rose up after the events of the Age of the Steel. The psychic paper makes things a little more complicated.


**This is more ridiculousness, for which you can blame Silver Sniper (also, thanks for the beta work). She came to visit me, we (inevitably) had a Who marathon and I realised Rose was surprisingly chipper at the start of The Idiot's Lantern, where there is a lot of flirting going on, considering how what happened in The Age of Steel. That realisation became a plot bunny, which became this.**

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><p><strong>Seventy-Seven Moons<strong>

"I'm really not in the mood for this."

Rose turned her back on The Doctor and continued layering her mascara on.

"But it's Mellorius!" he protested. "It's beautiful this time of year, with all the moons aligning."

She didn't look away from the mirror. "Read my lips: Not. In. The. Mood."

"Oh." She could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he finally processed her mood. She drew on her lipliner while she waited for him to leave. "This is unusual." Apparently the message hadn't quite sunk in, then. "The moon's barely gibbous, your hormonal fluctuations shouldn't be causing mood changes for another two weeks."

She chucked the mascara wand over her shoulder, using the mirror to make sure it hit him in the forehead.

"I'm not hormonal_, thank you very much_. I can be in a bad mood for other reasons, and I'm telling you that I'm going out with Shareen, not swanning off to Mallornium with you, but you just aren't getting it. And when did you start keeping track of when my time of the month is?"

"It's Mellorius, and the TARDIS just sort of...does it."

"Well that means you and the TARDIS know more than I bloody do, since apparently time travel causes a few issues with regularity."

Now that, finally, had him wincing and backing away. "I know it doesn't have to be hormonal. I just meant that normal you're very...level-headed."

"What a polite way of saying I'm not normally such a moody cow."

"Well, yes," he muttered, then thought better of it. "I've just never known you to be in a mood like this for so long, and why else wouldn't you want to visit the planet with seventy-seven moons? Granted, the women there do have an immensely complex menstrual cycle, but it's not going to affect you if we're only there for a few days."

"I don't want to bloody go to the planet of the seventy-seven sodding moons! I'll tell you why I'm in a bad mood, shall I, Doctor? A few days ago I left one of my oldest and best friends in an alternate universe and I will never see him again." The tears that she'd spent the last few days crying, on and off, began welling up again, and she focused on her anger so she didn't give into them. "I've spent so long travelling around this universe that I missed my other best friend having a little boy. Now, you might not like the domestic stuff, but right now I am feeling like the crappest friend on the planet, so we're having a girl's night out and since you aren't a girl, you aren't invited."

"But you can go out with Shareen anytime!"

"Except I won't, will I? I'll forget to come back again and keep putting it off and putting it off. I haven't even seen her since Christmas! You, on the other hand, have a time machine, so you and this planet you want to take me to can wait until I've tried to salvage my friendship."

The Doctor opened and closed his mouth a few times, then raised his hands in surrender, backing away from the eyeliner pencil she had poised.

"Okay, okay. You have fun tonight, and I'll be back."

"When?"

"Tomorrow...ish?" He backed out of the room, and she thought he was gone until he ducked around the doorframe again. "Oh, and Rose...you look lovely."

The unexpected comment perked her up so by the time Shareen came by in the taxi, her bad mood was all gone, and she was ready for some fun.

Tomorrow-ish turned out to be a week and a half later. His excuse was, "It's Tuesday, which is a bit like Thursday."

"Except it's not, and it would've been the wrong Thursday anyway," she grumbled, but let it drop, because it had only been ten days. At least he'd come back for her, rather than deciding her sudden moodiness was something he'd prefer to do without.

"Well, I was at the library," he continued, pretending like he'd actually given something approaching an apology. Which he really hadn't.

"The library? You spent a week in a library?"

"Well, it was a big one. Not the biggest one in the universe, but not far behind. It's a specialist one in the Noxus Nebula, dedicated to travel destinations. More like a giant tourist information office, but for the entire universe."

"What did you go there for?"

"To get a book," he told her, like he was speaking to someone who was slow on the uptake. "That is generally why people visit libraries. Although it did have a brilliant little shop attached to it."

"Thank you for enlightening me," she shot back, letting the sarcasm drip from every syllable. Maybe her bad mood hadn't entirely faded, then. "And here I was thinking most people used them to shelter from the rain in storms. I mean, I thought you knew all this stuff off the top of your head."

"I do, mostly. I was looking up something that I've never had much call to pay attention to, though." She waited patiently for him to answer, arms folded and eyebrow raised. "Spas!" he announced with a proud grin. "I knew I remembered something about there being a large one on Mellorius, and I was right. There's an entire town that's a spa - the biggest and apparently the best in that galaxy, a bit like Bath or Harrogate but with fewer old ladies and a lot less Victorian. Well, I'm not sure about the old ladies – anyway, I have the coordinates, so I'm taking you for a week of pampering!"

The Doctor obviously thought this was the best idea ever: he looked like the guy who had remembered to get his wife some flowers for their anniversary, and was clearly expecting brownie points.

"Sounds lovely," she told him, deciding it would be better to let him think it _was_the best idea ever.

"Like I said, it's the best in the galaxy and _very_exclusive. Just think: Scandalusian saunas, mud packs from the salt seas of Smoll, New Brasilian massages, the best starberry champagne, all under a moonlight sky on the Bay of Quicksilver, with the live song of quick whales drifting through the air. Plus, you get to wear those fluffy dressing gowns and the slippers that feel like you just stuffed your feet into a cloud. What do you think?"

"I think they need to hire you to write the brochure," she said, but she was grinning back now. It actually might be the best idea he'd ever had, not that she'd ever tell him that. "Won't you be bored at a spa though?" His enthusiasm for fluffy slippers aside, she couldn't see him sitting still long enough to get a pedicure.

"Me? No – there are loads of outdoor activities. Always fancied trying anti-gravity snowboarding. And they've got a vintage climbing wall – well, I suppose to you it would be a contemporary climbing wall. Plenty to keep me entertained."

"Okay."

"Just okay?" he echoed, his tone just about approaching smug.

"Well, we'll have to see, won't we? After I've tried that champagne and the fluffy slippers. Might have to try a few other spas in the general area too, just to see if it holds up to its claims." The Doctor pulled a face at the thought, but Rose swept past him on the way to the TARDIS, smiling mischievously when he couldn't see her.

"Did you actually read any further in that guidebook than the coordinates?" Rose asked when they stepped out of the TARDIS on Mellorius.

The Doctor grimaced. "Unfortunately not."

"Shame. Still, we're here now."

She took a step towards the shining foyer of the spa building ahead of them, and he gripped her arm in a panic. "No, no. As you pointed out, I've got a time machine. We can come back next week. Or last week. I just don't think now's the best time...I mean, they must be busy, right?"

She grinned and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the psychic paper. "Oh, no. We're staying. I wouldn't miss this for the world. And besides, we have our booking right here." She waved the paper at him and strode off, through the double-storey glass doors, under the pink banner hanging above them.

_Welcome to everyone celebrating Saint Celestus's Day – the festival of romance._

It was a calculated risk, since there was every chance he'd run back to the TARDIS and fly off without her, but soon she heard the squeak of rubber soles on highly-polished marble floors behind her.

The reception desk was the same white marble as the rest of the interior, and the woman sat behind it had a vaguely silver gleam to her skin.

"Welcome to The Bayside Spa," she greeted Rose in warm tones, her hair tied back in a neat bun and her dress a crisp white kimono. "Do you have a booking?"

"We do," Rose replied, holding up the psychic paper. There didn't seem to be a computer system anywhere, so Rose hoped they wouldn't be rumbled when the booking couldn't be found.

The receptionist took the psychic paper from Rose and scanned her hand (seven fingers, Rose noticed) over it, which chimed. "Thank you, Mr and Mrs Doctor. You have a Premium Deluxe Guest Suite waiting with a wonderful view of the bay. If you'd like to book any treatments or activities you can do so from within the room, and your Server for the duration of your stay will be Ianice." Her hand chimed again, and a teenage boy came scuttling up to the counter, bowing low. This was presumably Ianice. He had the same silvery skin, white uniform and long fingers as the receptionist. "Enjoy your stay."

The Doctor's hand appeared over Rose's shoulder and snatched the psychic paper back, but the receptionist's smile didn't falter.

"If you would care to follow me," Ianice said, still bowed towards the floor, then he straightened up and looked around in surprise. "No luggage?"

"We travel light," Rose reassured him. He didn't make eye contact, but rocked back on his heels, then spun and scurried off in the direction of what Rose guessed was the lift.  
>She followed him across the lobby and became very aware of the Doctor leaning into murmur to her.<p>

"Why are we Mr and Mrs Doctor?"

"Don't ask me, it's your psychic paper."

He mumbled something and Rose ignored him, following Ianice into the glass lift.

The corridor they stepped out onto - on the top floor, Rose noted - wasn't like any other hotel Rose had ever been to. Instead of a long stretch of carpet, and doors every few feet along the wall, the floor was actually glass, so you could see all the way down to the pool on the ground floor, and the moonlight streamed in from above. It was night but given that all the moons were nearly full, it was very bright, and everything was bathed in soft white. The walls and doors were made of some gently glowing stone Rose had never seen before, and there was a window between each door, so all the rooms were set in blocks of their own. They were led almost to the end of the corridor, when Ianice stopped to bow in front of a room, holding up a piece of marble the size of a credit card to The Doctor.

"Thanks," he said, and swiped it in the general direction of the door, which slid open. "Tell me Ianice, do you serve any drinks here that are banana flavoured?"

"We certainly do, Sir. Forty-three of them. Would you like to order one through room service?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"You will find the menu on the entrance wall of the suite, Sir."

"Do you serve banana martinis?"

"We do, Sir."

"Then just send several of those up. Thanks then!" Ianice threw a bewildered glance at The Doctor, who was already inside the room, and fled back down the corridor.

"I think he's decided we're going to be problem guests - oh, wow." Rose stopped dead when she saw the inside of the suite.

Saying they had a good view of the bay was an understatement. The main room of the suite formed a semi-circle, and the curved wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, looking out across a sea of silver that reached to the horizon. The sky that met it at the horizon was the same ghostly white that lit the hallway, and a chain of moons stretched across it, each of them full or near enough.

"That is beautiful!" she said, dropping to sit on the massive sofa that faced the window. Everything in the room itself was white and silver, marble and glass, apart from the black screen behind the door, which was on a screensaver reading "_Room service and bookings_".

"I told you this was the best time of year to come, didn't I?"

"Yeah," she exhaled in a sigh. "And we're in a suite, not just a room. I bet the bathroom's all posh marble like this, and lucky for you the sofa's comfy."

"Why is that lucky for me?"

"Cause you'll be sleeping on it, won't you? What, you think there's more than one bed? I don't care if it is super-duper-king-sized, I'm having that to myself."

He opened his mouth to protest but there was a chime from the door. "Martinis!"

"Tell them to bring me some of that champagne!" Rose yelled as he bounded off to answer the door. "I'm slipping into something more comfortable." And she went off in search of a fluffy bathrobe.

"And then the viceroy turned to look at me and half his beard had melted off!"

Rose squealed in laughter at the end of the Doctor's story, squirming so much on the sofa she nearly rolled off it.

"Do you..." She gasped for breath and tried again. "D'ya remember that bloke we met on that planet which was all ocean, the one with the forked beard - "

"Oh hiiiiim! I do."

Rose nodded vigorously at the Doctor, then squinted at her champagne flute, which was nearly empty. She leaned across to the coffee table the ice bucket was resting on to get a refill. "I keep meaning to ask," she said, swallowing down a hiccough. The champagne bottle was feeling very light. "Why does this say 'Congratulations' on it?"

"Does it?" The Doctor lifted the champagne bottle up and stared at the card. "Oh dear. Bad psychic paper. Very naughty."

"What?" she asked, snatching the bottle back and dispensing with the flute, swigging down the dregs direct from the bottle.

"You are one classy girl, Rose Tyler."

"I know!" she said, then winced at how shrill the answer was.

"And apparently my new bride."

"_What_?" The word came out as more of a scream, and then she was nearly crying with laughter.

"They think we just got married. This is the honeymoon suite. That's why the champagne was complimentary and why we got such a good view."

"Oh my God. Very bad psychic paper!"

"Well, it came from your head!"

"Did not. I'm telling you, it's your paper, it's your responsibility." She tried to jump to her feet, which didn't really work with the way she'd been sprawled on the sofa and she'd been sat so close to the Doctor that they were all tangled together. When she was finally on her feet, as steady as she could be between the spinning room and the giggles she couldn't stop, she crooked her finger at him for him to stand up too.

"Why do we have to move?" he asked, pouting.

"Because _one_," she said, holding up her index finger, "we are out of alcohol and need to order more. _Two_-" she held up what hoped were two fingers, but might have been three or even four, "- we need to order some anti-hangover stuff for the morning, or tomorrow is going to be hell."

"Speak for yourself," he said. "Time Lords don't get hangovers."

"Then you just aren't drinking enough. And _three_-" she gave up with the fingers "- if this is the honeymoon suite, I really, really wanna see what the bed is like now."

He grimaced again. "I'll concede points one and two but not three."

"Come here," she said, grabbing him by the tie and yanking him up. He stumbled into her as he tried to find his feet and failed, and she kept pulling him along by the tie in the direction of the shiny door across the room.

She pushed it open and threw her arms wide. "See! It's all honeymoony and stuff. Look, there are even rose petals on the bed." Then, for no other reason than it seemed a good idea, she took a running jump and threw herself face down in the middle of the huge bed.

"What do I need rose petals for? I've got an entire Rose here!" the Doctor said, and she rolled over, throwing a handful of the petals at his grinning face.

"It's romantic, silly. Ooh, press that button behind you."

What The Doctor achieved was more of a stumble backwards and he hit the button with his elbow, but it was good enough. The lights dimmed and music started playing from hidden speakers.

"See, romantic," she repeated, throwing more handfuls of the petals into the air. "But you can turn the music off." It sounded like a panpipe version of a Celine Dion song, and she'd spent enough time with her mum playing Celine to death.

"We didn't really come here for romance," The Doctor replied. She noticed that he was still hovering in the doorway, hands in his pockets.

"No. We came here for...what did we come here for again? I don't care, we need more alcohol."

She crawled across the bed towards him, then stumbled when she tried to climb off, and he caught her. "More alcohol, eh?" he asked, grinning at her again.

"Definitely," she replied, then realised his face was very close to hers. She did the most logical thing she could think of: she grabbed him with both hands and kissed him.

He didn't really move so she kept kissing until he responded, and his reaction was to push her backwards until she was sprawled across the foot of the bed. Not that he was pushing her away - his lips never left hers, and he was sprawled out beside her. It wasn't the most elegant kiss in history, especially since they were both so drunk, but Rose was sure this had to count as one of the best. He tasted like banana, which wasn't surprising considering how many of those martinis he'd drunk, and his hair was softer than she'd thought. Soft enough that she buried both hands in it, holding him close to her.

His hands were doing some exploring, and since all she had on was the bathrobe and her underwear it was easy for him to find skin: arm and thigh and bum and chest. She was getting overheated anyway so she broke away for a second and pulled the robe off, shoving it onto the floor. Good job she had nice underwear on. The Doctor certainly seemed to think it was nice - he was staring at her, opened mouthed.

"Well..." he started, but the rest of the sentence never came.

"Well," she repeated, smirking. She put a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed until he was lying on his back, and threw a leg over so she was now the one on top. "Well indeed," she said once more, and bent down to kiss him again.

She somehow managed to get the tie undone - he might have helped, she wasn't really sure - and half the shirt unbuttoned. He had a lot of chest hair, though she was happy to find that his back was smooth, and his skin was cool to the touch despite how heated it should have been by now. He was certainly as breathless as she was.

"You need to...mmm that's nice...lift up," he panted at as she kissed along his jawline. She decided it was more fun to roll her hips against him instead.

His fingers dug into her shoulder as he made an unintelligible sound. "No...really...these need to come off."

Rose sat up straight, pouting, and he somehow managed to get his trousers undone and down, where they got tangled around his ankles. Rose was no help, rolling off to one side and laughing uproariously as he wriggled about on the bed.

"Smooth," she whispered when they were on the floor, somewhere near her robe. "But at least your socks are off too."

"Are socks a bad thing?" he asked, genuinely puzzled, pulling her back above him.

"I could never love a man who kept his socks on in bed," she replied seriously, and he wiggled his toes.

"Glad we got that straight then. Now, how does this infernal thing come off?" He was tugging at the straps on her bra and she peeled his fingers away.

"I might need that. For support."

He pouted but she ignored him, attacking his throat and jaw again, while his fingers found more interesting places to explore.

"Oh, that's good," she mumbled. "You can keep doing that, if you like." She didn't have to look at his face to know he was beaming. Probably smugly.

She concentrated on getting the rest of the buttons on his shirt undone - even tried to do one with her mouth, which didn't really work, so she went back to using hands, which was much more successful. When she reached the last one, she pushed the cloth aside and licked along his hipbone.

"Well, hello, there Doctor Junior," she said, attempting sexy and missing by a mile, but before she could do anything more interesting with her mouth, she was being pulled back up his body.

"Hi," he said, grinning widely, and began to slide her knickers down over her arse.

"It's not going to work like this," she told him. "Remember you and the trousers? Gimme a sec." She rolled away and wriggled free of them, tossing them across the room.

"I wanted them," he protested.

"You can get 'em later, weirdo." She pushed herself up one elbow and reached down to grab hold of him with the other hand. "Brace yourself."

She was a bit out of practice at this, and her balance was long gone, so it took nearly a minute for them to find a rhythm between them that wouldn't end up with Rose falling off the bed. When all that was sorted though, she could concentrate on just moving and feeling, and she was feeling quite a lot, thank you very much.

"That's...oh yes - oh, do _that_again," the Doctor babbled away. She should have known he'd never shut up. Still, it was nice to get a little bit of feedback, to know that he was enjoying himself. It was just a shame that she couldn't keep this pace up forever.

"You'd think with all that running, my thighs wouldn't get knackered so quickly," she said.

"Well then." A second later she was underneath The Doctor, her legs wrapped around him, and they were face to face.

He wasn't hesitant at all, and she was glad for the billion pillows on the bed because it was almost ferocious, the way he was moving. It still felt brilliant, though, and they were so close together now that it felt a lot more intimate. She could kiss him like this - so she did.

At some point she slid her hand between them, and she had to bite her tongue to stop herself laughing at The Doctor's confusion. He took over, quite enthusiastically, a moment later, and it was well-warranted enthusiasm. She found herself screaming how good it felt, thankful that they were on the top floor and the rooms were spread out, because the man was a quick learner. One moment she was on the bed, the next felt like she was spinning out amongst the moons, even though she was still writhing and crying out beneath him.

"What was that?" he muttered, astonished, when she'd quietened.

"That," she answered, peppering kisses across the skin she could reach, "was the orgasm of the human female. Further study _is_recommended."

"I think that's something I'd enjoy studying."

"Thought you might." She tightened her legs around him and shifted her hips so the angle shifted, just enough. He moaned louder than she'd ever heard and his movements became erratic, followed a few seconds later by a long grunt, and she was sure she heard her name being whispered.

They stayed curled around each other for a while, and the alcohol was still fuzzing her thoughts all up, so she let them run away from her, too snarled to get a proper grasp on them. It was nicer just to lie here, with a hand on the warm skin of his belly, feeling him breathe, letting that rhythm lull her.

Eventually he stirred. "What now, m'lady? More champagne?"

"No." She burrowed into the nook of his shoulder, letting her limbs drape across him. Someone seemed to be brushing her hair back from her face, the gentle movement echoing across her skin. "Sleep." Because The Doctor was the best pillow she'd ever had.

"Rose." She burrowed further into the pillow, away from the voice. Why was someone drumming on her head? "Rose," the voice tried again, and now the room was shaking, which made her stomach roll.

"Go away. Or kill me. Whichever." Speaking definitely didn't help - that just seemed to remind her stomach there was a way for its contents to escape.

"Rose, we really need to get up and leave. Also, if you drink this, it'll clear the hangover completely."

"Well, why didn't you say." She lifted her head from the pillow and squinted to find a mug hovering in front of her face. She grasped it with a shaky hand and, ignoring her tongue's protests, downed it. "Oh my god, what the hell was in that?"

"Believe me, you don't want to know." Oh, right. The Doctor. That was who was speaking.

Oh crap. The Doctor. Rose was suddenly very aware of how naked she was under the bed covers, and how her make-up had to be smeared across her face. And her hair - she didn't even want to know what her hair was like.

"So why do I have to get up?"

"Because the management just figured out we didn't have a booking and haven't paid and will be here in the next twenty minutes."

"I don't suppose I have the time to shower first, then?"

At least the hangover cure was exactly that, a cure. She felt better before she'd even stumbled out of bed, which meant the only thing making her feel like crap when she collected her scattered clothes from around the bedroom where the flashbacks from the night before.

She'd had sex. With The Doctor. Good sex, mind you, but still something that could complicate and possibly ruin everything.

_Run away first. Fight fires later._

The Doctor had already worked their escape route mapped out before she emerged from the bedroom, so it was embarrassingly easy to sneak out of the spa and to the TARDIS. The embarrassing part was, admittedly, because she looked exactly like she was doing the walk of shame. Did the walk of shame even still exist in whatever century they were in?

Only when the TARDIS door was shut behind them did the absurdity of it all - and probably a little sleep-deprivation - hit Rose, and she collapsed, sliding down the door until she was curled into a ball on the floor, cackling away like a madwoman.

"What's so funny?" a bemused Doctor asked.

"I...don't...know!" she gasped.

And then he was laughing with her.

When they'd finally regained their wits, there was a moment where they looked at each other, and the heat from last night was back.

"I was thinking," he said. "You didn't actually get to try any of the spa stuff. And it would be a shame if you'd never had the chance to try the Neo-Maledonian whirlpools."

"That's sounds like a jacuzzi."

"It's very much like a jacuzzi. And you can hire them for private use. So I was thinking we could go back in time by, oh, three weeks and really test the facilities. What do you say?"

"I'd say that's an even better idea than your last one."

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><p><strong>I amused myself if no one else :P. Thank you for reading if you made it through!<strong>


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